the cotillon at Countess Orsetti's ball. As chamberlain to his late
highness the Duke of Lucca, it is expected of me to organize every
thing. One can leave nothing to that animal Baldassare--he has no
head, no system; he dances well, but like a machine. The ball was
magnificent--a great success," he continued, speaking rapidly, for
he saw that a storm was gathering on the marchesa's brow, by the
deepening of the wrinkles between her eyes. "A great success. I took a
few turns myself with Teresa Ottolini--tra la la la la," and he swayed
his head and shoulders to and fro as he hummed a waltz-tune.

"_You_!" exclaimed the marchesa, staring at him with a look of
contempt--"_you_!"

"Yes. Why not? I am as young as ever, dear marchesa--eighty, the prime
of life!"

"The festival of the Holy Countenance and the cotillon!" cried the
marchesa, with great indignation. "Tell me nothing about the Orsetti
ball. I won't listen to it. Good Heavens!" she continued, reddening,
"I am thirty years younger than you are, but I left off dancing
fifteen years ago. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Cesarino!"

Cesarino only smiled at her benignantly in reply. She had called him
a fool so often! He seated himself beside her without speaking. He had
come prepared to entertain her with an account of every detail of the
ball; but seeing the temper she was in, he deemed it more prudent to
be silent--to be silent specially about Count Nobili. The mention of
his name would, he knew, put her in a fury, so, being a prudent man,
and a courtier, he entirely dropped the subject of the ball. Yet
Trenta was a privileged person. He never voluntarily contradicted the